


dulce bellum inexpertis

by Donkey



Category: Minecraft (Video Game)
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Costume Parties & Masquerades, M/M, Magic, Medieval Fantasy, NaNoWriMo 2020, Rating subject to change, i'll tag this as it gets more relevant, knight dream, no beta unless someone offers oops, prince sapnap, updates weekly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:29:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27335710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Donkey/pseuds/Donkey
Summary: in which prince sapnap and his family start getting death threats and dream is appointed as the prince's personal guard.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 43





	dulce bellum inexpertis

he was crying. his weeps filled the huge, stone room, his shaky hands trying to steady themselves against the large mahogany bed frame; his body, trembling and swaying from side to side; his head, feeling heavy in its place. all he could think about was his dad _yelling_ at him. his dad screaming about how stupid he was for allowing his friends to get killed. his - his dad going on about the rules he had set in place, never to be broken, the fine print on the never-ending list of laws. how he was the reason his friends were killed, even if he wasn't the one who had sent them off on a suicide mission. the - the mission that was so _obviously_ too difficult for a couple eighteen year olds, barely out of knight training, excited to face the world. their confidence was far higher than even the toughest knights, and his dad knew that. his dad knew what was happening when the teenagers left. he knew, and he did nothing about it.

he couldn't handle it anymore. he couldn't sit there and allow his friends to continuously pass, every last one of them succumbing to the unfair trials that promised a place in the king's court if they passed. no one would ever be able to get past the dragon. it was just another way the king filtered out the weak — one of the many, many things the king refused to allow in his kingdom. 

he was starting to think he would be the next one killed. he would be told to lead a brigade into the dragon's cave with an empty promise of love and respect, sworn to the crown and tossed aside, just like the rest. he was yet another fish in a never-ending sea, and that was something he didn't want to think about. couldn't think about. not right now.

his hands gripped the bedpost tight, leaning his head against the top. he tried to steady his breathing. he could just... up and leave, never to see the kingdom again — it's been done before. one of the past princes left the kingdom, nobody caring, so who's to say they'll care if _he_ does it? if he - he grabs his mask, a bag, and a horse, riding out and into the night as if he was in his own fairy tale. it'd be unnoticeable, surely. no one would know. 

he moves his head back, looking around his room. a dresser, a bed, a desk, a closet, a bathroom, two night stands; a room full of memories he's grown accustomed to. they were his one solace in the massive kingdom of koire. the desk he had spent so long writing letters on, hoping it'd reach his friends on the front lines. the night stands with hidden compartments, hiding the few things he could from his parents. the - the closet with the secret exit, hidden behind the mass amount of clothes he had for every occasion. 

he moved a still-shaky hand away from the bedpost, allowing himself to turn around. he needed to pack a bag.

his body was sluggish, at first, but it got better as time went on. he grabbed a large satchel from his closet, a few inconspicuous pairs of clothing, his knife, his sword. his mask was the last thing he grabbed, scared of him being found early — of _it_ being found at all. the white porcelain was carefully crafted by an old friend. it didn't deserve to wind up in his father's cold, rough hands. nothing did these days.

everything was packed, save for his journal. the journal, hidden deep within the desk's drawers, that told his entire life tale; the tale of a boy who had so much hope. the tale of a boy who had that hope torn from him, year by year. the tale of a boy who would be leaving, never to say goodbye, never to come back. he left it there. half of him hoped it'd be found by his father, letting him assume the worst about him - that he was dead, perhaps - and allowing himself the perfect escape, and the other half worried that it'd give him an idea as to where he was going to be for the next foreseeable future. the future that he has yet to plan, no end in sight; he didn't know where he'd be going, but he hoped to god it'd be worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> heya!! i'm writing this for dreamteam safespace's big bang event <3\. i don't think i'll be hitting 50k words this year (especially since its my first nanowrimo, oopsies), but ill try!! if u enjoy my work, my tumblr is @technoblading & i have a discord server here (https://discord.gg/etnJCtu). 
> 
> updates should be every few days! if they're not then i'm slacking and ruh roh raggy


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